The Cradle Mission. Rita Herron
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That she hadn’t a clue as to whether or not they would survive.
Shivering, she glanced out the window at the other stranded tourists who’d veered off the road to seek shelter. The bare tree branches bowed with the weight of the wind, and several of them snapped and fell to the ground. But her eyes tracked the people as they climbed from their cars, searching their faces.
Were they all travelers stranded and lost in the storm?
Or could one of them be after Simon?
PHYLLIS FRENCH STOOD beneath the shaded cover of the neighboring porch and watched Alanna.
She had been following her since she’d left Savannah.
Smiling to herself, she patted the soft gray curls of her wig, pulled the hood of the ancient parka over her head and grabbed a bundle of wool blankets. Hunching her shoulders, she limped as she approached the cabin where the young nurse had just taken residence.
She had to see the baby for herself.
To make sure Alanna still had him. That he was safe and sound.
Phyllis placed one hand on her flat stomach where an ache burned through her belly. Emptiness clawed at her, gut-wrenching in its intensity. But she couldn’t give in to the agony. She could alleviate the ache, though. When she got Simon.
And she would. She just had to be patient.
Stifling the emotions clogging her throat, she knocked on the door, knowing Alanna would be scared to open it.
“Who is it?” Alanna’s thin voice barely cut through in the wind.
Phyllis masked her own voice, smiling at how well she mimicked an old lady. “It’s Mr. Dimsdale’s wife with extra blankets. Thought you might want them in case we lose power during the night.”
The metal latch squeaked as Alanna slowly slid it open from the inside. Alanna Hayes had no idea what she’d gotten herself into. Or how to deal with the situation.
Phyllis almost felt sorry for her.
Except she had been a victim herself. Bitterness welled inside, like a virus twisting her gut into pieces. She missed her baby. Wanted him. Had to hold him.
“Miss, it’s cold out here,” she said, purposely letting her voice quiver.
“I’m sorry.” The door finally opened a crack and the nurse peered through the narrow opening, her big blue-green eyes frightened. But her expression softened at the sight of Phyllis’s stooped posture. Alanna exhaled, a tiny puff of relief Phyllis was certain the young woman hadn’t realized she’d emitted.
“Thanks. My husband said you have a baby. Is the little one all right?”
Wariness darkened Alanna’s features. “Why, yes…thank you for asking.”
“You need anything? Formula, diapers?” Phyllis smiled, revealing fake crooked teeth. “Anything for the baby?”
“No, we’re fine.” Alanna opened the door just enough to take the blankets. “And thanks for these.”
Wanting desperately to get a look at the baby, Phyllis tried to peer inside, but the damn woman had the door blocked. Then she heard the baby’s cry. A soft little gurgling sound that squeezed at her heart.
“I’d better go feed him,” Alanna said.
Phyllis nodded and fisted her hands as the door closed in her face. Despite the disappointment, excitement stirred in her chest, along with a deep longing. Ducking into the shadows of the trees, she hurried to the cabin she’d rented next door.
She would know when it was time to play her hand. When it was time to reveal herself and take Simon. And she would fight for him when that time came.
Until then, she’d be a shadow trailing Alanna Hayes’s every move.
One day she would have it all. She would claim Simon as hers, the way it should have been. She would have him and everything that went along with being his mother.
Because she knew all their dirty little secrets.
The researchers’. Dr. Polenta’s. Arnold Hughes’s.
Even Alanna Hayes’s.
CAIN SAT IN THE CAR in the blinding rain and studied the small cabin where Jane Carter, or whoever the hell she was, had hidden out for the night.
There was no question in his mind that she was hiding.
From whom, he didn’t know. But she’d even acted suspicious when the old caretaker had taken her blankets.
Most likely an abusive boyfriend or husband. Eric tended to have a soft spot for women like her. They’d both known the reason why. He’d even understood Eric’s actions, had wanted to cross the line a time or two himself, but he’d taken an oath to uphold the law and he intended to keep it.
Still, this woman’s sudden appearance seemed too coincidental.
Did it have anything to do with Eric’s death?
He parked out back near her car and settled in his seat. Surely she wouldn’t be foolish enough to leave during the night, not with the bad weather and a baby in tow, and that fever. He’d sack out in the car and get some sleep and question her in the morning. If she did know something that would help him find Eric’s killer, he didn’t intend to lose her.
But when he closed his eyes, he couldn’t shake the image of Eric’s burning car from his mind.
THE CLOCK GLARED at Cain in the dimness of the predawn sky, its bold numbers mocking him with the time. Five-thirty in the morning—almost twenty hours since the explosion. Twenty hours since he’d told his brother goodbye.
He hadn’t realized it would be the last time.
He folded his arms behind his head and stared at the woods, an image of the explosion, the burning car, his brother’s charred remains tormenting him. They’d haunt him for the rest of his life.
Dammit, he’d told Eric that eventually something would happen to him, but even as he’d issued the warning, he’d never imagined the worst coming true, especially so soon. Eric had always managed to beat the odds. He’d acted invincible. Maybe somewhere deep down, Cain had believed it, too.
Anguish overpowered him. He’d felt helpless yesterday when his captain had ordered him to sit out the case.
Today he would start investigating.
After he made the arrangements for the memorial service.
Eric had been only twenty-nine; how could he choose a plot of land to bury his ashes in? His cell phone rang. Not wanting to listen to another awkward condolence, he let the voice mail pick up, then retrieved it in case it was important.
“Caldwell, this is Flack. Just let me know when the service is and I’ll be there.” Cain’s captain cleared his throat, an uncharacteristic bit of emotion resonating in his voice. “And don’t plan on coming in for a while. We all know you need time to deal with this. Pirkle and Wade caught the case, so try and get some rest. We’ll find out who killed your brother.”
A bitter snort escaped him. Rest? Like hell. He wouldn’t rest until he found out who had turned his brother into a…no, he couldn’t think it. And he couldn’t sit around and let two half-cocked rookies handle the investigation.
Eric had devoted his life to helping victims, the vulnerable and the needy. In honor of his mother, Eric had said. If the cops had done their jobs, she wouldn’t have killed herself.
What if the locals or the feds discovered his brother had taken the law into his own hands a time or two? What if Eric had something to do with Charlene Banks’s husband’s death?
Could Cain bring himself to cover it up to protect Eric’s memory?
Jane Carter suddenly opened the door to the cabin she’d rented. She